The World is a Stage by Tamara Morgan Page A

and at ease with the strangely paternal vehicle. When she emerged, it was with two small, brown-haired creatures in miniature pink peacoats stuck to either hip.
    “Oh, good. Peterson’s here. Have you met his little demons?” Michael handed her a plate with enough food to feed a small village and raised a hand in greeting. “They’re cute, but if you know what’s good for you, avoid all topics related to bugs, bears and Twinkies.”
    “Twinkies?” Rachel echoed. Eric had kids? Two of them? And Molly hadn’t felt that might be a pertinent fact?
    “Yeah.” Michael crinkled his brow. “I may have said something about cockroaches and Twinkies. You know, in case of an apocalypse? I’m pretty sure they think the damn things are made of cockroaches now.”
    “Rachel, would you like to meet Sammy and Pris?”
    Samantha and Priscilla. The tattoos on Eric’s wrists. Oh God. The juice.
    “Um…okay?”
    Rachel stood there, not all of her bewilderment due to the sudden realization she’d been wrong about Eric. As she took in the pair of them, she was a hundred percent unsure what was supposed to happen next. Did she offer them a handshake? Pinch their cheeks? She might have a piece of gum in her purse.
    “You’re tall for a lady.”
    Rachel blinked. She couldn’t tell which one had spoken. They weren’t twins or anything, but there was something about cherubic young faces swathed in pink that blurred inside her head as one.
    “Yep. I am,” she said when it seemed some sort of response was required of her.
    “Miss Molly is short.”
    “I think she’s more average-size. Statistically speaking, I mean.” Behind her, Michael snorted.
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means, silly pea, that I’m not short or tall.” Molly was cooing. Cooing. “I’m perfect. Just. Like. You.”
    “Your hair is like Ariel’s,” one of them continued. “She’s a mermaid. You’re not a mermaid.”
    Rachel blinked. Apparently, small children liked to make patent observations. She could do that.
    “You have pigtails. And the other one has freckles.”
    The one with freckles began crying.
    Rachel was so bewildered she was on the verge of asking the girls if they wanted Twinkies when Michael placed an arm around her shoulder and veered her in the opposite direction. Under any other circumstances, Rachel would have immediately stabbed his arm with the nearest pointed object, but the way his hand gave her shoulder a little squeeze was so…so… comforting .
    “Don’t worry. They freaked the shit out of me at first too.”
    A shaky laugh escaped her lips. “Was it really bad?”
    “Well, it wasn’t good, I’ll be honest. But I doubt you’ve scarred them for life.”
    “Can I…?” She stopped and turned to look at her sister. Molly had set the girls down, and they were running in circles around her. It was a strange thing to see.
    Molly had almost been a mother. Rachel had almost been an aunt.
    But they weren’t, and they’d barely even had time to process it all, both of them still wobbling around on unsteady legs. Picking up another man’s kids and calling them silly names didn’t change what had happened. Molly had to know that.
    “What?” Michael asked, rubbing his hands together. “Can I show you inside the castle? I knew you’d fold!”
    “No. I need to talk to Eric.” Her jaw tensed, and she felt a headache coming on. “Just…excuse me for one second.”
    She didn’t wait for a response.  
    She found Eric leaning against his car, his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair. It might not have been smugness. It might have been a man’s simple pleasure at watching his kids.
    She observed as another man rounded the front of the van and said something in a low voice to Eric. Rachel had seen him milling around the party and thought he looked familiar, but it wasn’t until the two of them were side by side that she realized they were related, both of their faces bearing the